taking out the trash

While taking out some trash this afternoon
I observed how quiet it was outside.
In the ordinariness of this action 
I became very aware of myself as silence
 in relation to Nature. 
even when sounds arise from her, she feels silent.

the thought crossed my mind,

what if I really practiced being here

without creating more noise in my head 
or believing the drama that continues to find form there, 
through my believing in and perhaps even needing it, 
just to avoid this silence?

the drama inside my head

has a way of spilling down into my body

somehow enticing nerve endings to believe there is something exciting happening

which sends this message back to brain

and brain tells me I have a life, a dramatic, exciting one!

I am giving myself a little bit of a hard time, pulling my leg a bit.
I love symbols, I love interpretations, I love creative life. 
and I love the drama of the contrasts.

But to watch, 
to listen
 with a bit less need for the drama?
Is this possible?
I'm game.

even this game has an allure to it....
but really, I am curious.
it is a practical experiment with inner silence.

Can I observe the effort to create drama and let it go?
Can I be alone 
in this pulsing life 
without making more of myself than is real and authentic?

How will I know what is  real?
I am fascinated already.

Oh, I feel Her pulling me in again..............

Reflections, How I Shine

I have a way of meeting the other in cyberspace

That can make you more real to me than myself.

You become so attractive 

I shine you way up.

You are awesome,

inspiring,

good.

In a blink of the eye this admiration can become comparison

and I am lost.

This mind can be compulsive about knowing itself

This mind leaves her own heart at the drop of a hat,

This heart wants deep practice.

This mind moves like light speed

Away from center

Again and again.

I praise you, I adore you, I admire you, I support you.

And this small voice inside me

Still calls for me to stay

Just a bit longer 

To finally be known as the one and only,

source of light.

I still look for god and goddess in the air

Through cyber space there are innumerable paths to take,

As if all that my mind confirms is real, 

is real.

Our physical meetings are quieter, less dramatic

There is less chance to leave myself.

I can see our similarities, 

I can feel your concerns and strengths, 

I can feel myself.

This is the gift of the body,

to invite embodiment.

I wake this morning

To discover once again,

how to play, 

how to create 

how to remain in touch.

Beseeching the Divine to come closer

I want to feel our connection

In every cell.

Maybe that is what I have been doing all along,

Perhaps there is nothing to change.

Perhaps I am created just this way,

To be just this way.

I am seeing myself more and more and more 

Like the Moon.

Reflecting your Sun

Is how I shine.

Lilith unveiled Innocence

oh, Lilith 

where I went, 

well, there are words for it, and images, and feelings.

my ring came off,

my ears went bare

and I descended 

I was yours again.

she has taken me before,

into this dark territory

and it is always my move to find the place where I say stop,

where I raise my hand and say, "stop."

I learn how to make the journey 

I learn when to return.

This cauldron the body

the intensity the fire of desire

This depth the soul

The stillness the water where the treasure awaits the light.

my outer life is gratefully uneventful

my inner is the river of life, 

sometimes gently streaming

sometimes tumultuously raging.

the gate opened 

and the fruit of the dark moved through me

I looked

I felt

and deleted and deleted and deleted what was not mine

letting pass what could not hold me.  

I landed at the feet of love. 

tears flowed as I felt being met there.

I found what was lost
innocence.

here,

where 

nothing is ever really happening.

just this pulse is real.

hot and humbled, I am walking on

these smiling dancin' feet.

The crows are cawing their own story out of the same stillness.

Relationship

Relationship

If all this is only me, 

and all I know or not of me,

How do I relate to you, 

who only knows all of you

and the more that awaits the revealing,

in our meeting?

By listening, 

making space for the fine yellow finch seeking breakfast.

By receiving the messages

By feeling my responses,

opening or closing.

By asking questions

How hungry are we?

I work on some stuff through words

So that the truth can be embodied.

Oh, the words did flow for years

Thoughts flew.

So many wild stories

So many dear stories

All love stories,

the only story there is.

Lilith

The stars are shining.

Tonight, I will sleep outside.

It will be my way to celebrate the sun

And the moon.

Last week I heard the connection

Really, I began yoga ages ago and never heard this...

Ha-tha

Sun moon

she said the neutral pole between these two is the starry sky.

Heart couldn’t help but be moved to Hathor, too.

The time line is becoming sensed

Internally

Some connections are felt from this point in time.

Yesterday

I met a teenage copperhead on the road

So bright and fresh.

Lachesis

Has given me the taste for the snake bite

So I don’t have to go right in there anymore to feel my boundaries.

having its poison in my blood now

Homeopathically

It works

To feel the poison run through me

Before I am in danger,

I recognize the vibration.

Today I spoke with my favorite astrologer about Lilith 

My chart blows her away 

with such awe

That it is infectious,

I really begin to love this strange one, too.

Lilith in her three stellar forms

is actively blessing and in conjunction within my planetary blueprint.

As she is in you, no doubt.

I love the Goddess.

Her myriad faces and expressions has made me know myself to be real, alive

And in her service, so she can be known through me.

We talked today about Lilith in her forms, in her formlessness

As the primal center of creation

Impersonal.

Not like Durga, who I call on for protection

Blazing in on her tiger,

The beast between her legs

The one she rides on

And that heart of hers, 

blasting untruth to smithereens ………..

But Lilith…….. 

She’s not one you call on,

But one you make room for.

Giving her space tonight

feeling beyond a face

Beyond a form.

She is as new to me as I am to myself.

I am her handmaiden.

I know this deep in my belly.

I remember her snakes in Greece

As my son napped on the bed beside me.

I don’t know the history, and I love that you do and share it here.

My home, born in the stars, is beyond the edge of the known universe

I come from far away.

The stranger

I am surrounded by home, 

the edges blur in this familiar kiss.

To distill this story into a pure gift is fun.

Ah, there is the german thing again.

Are there no Germans here ? !

Ich vermisse dich, wo bist du denn?

a Gift in english is the present, given in love, to show my love for or appreciation of you.

das Gift auf deutsch……….is poison.

Back to the copperhead,

On my return, I kept my eyes open,

having seen that truck go by,

I knew what I would most likely see. 

If snake lies in the road

They will go after her.

And there she was,

Hated,

Curled in a bow, 

Soft pink spilling onto the road

Her bright pattern still shining

And penetrating vibrantly to infinity.

spilling yourself deeper into life

Process Painting, what is it?

for me it has been a spontaneous experience in paint,

zen-like in its flow,

dream-like in the way forms arise and change,

life-like as my interpretations take hold of a form, give it meaning and the river of color and water carries them along beyond my story.

it is fun, challenging, exciting to witness, a fascinating practice.

it is meditation in action.
It is a listening and a letting go, in paint.

What can it be for you?

smooth white paper   

smooth color

smooth brushes

letting the brush lead

your eye sees where it wants to go

to blue?    

to red?

to yellow?

to green?

to purple?

to that luscious magenta?

a dip in the water makes the brush ready to hold the color

the dance has begun before the brush touches the paper.

where will it touch first?

and how?

how thrilling

to allow yourself such freedom,

such courage to stand before the void!

creativity awakens and stretches,

thrilled to be called forth in such an open way, 

into such a safe space as you.

there is no right or wrong way to paint spontaneously

no goal is held.

as judgements arise, they too are seen 

and in giving space to what is, 

they let go of us.

this playful experience has a way of spilling us deeper into life.

an invitation I couldn't resist any longer

That invitation,

she made it so easy, effortless.

What would that look like,

 when I am at one with myself?

As a woman, I would be at one with all my past experiences if I am at one with myself.

As a woman, I will be,

I am, she says.

I am

I am here. 

Would I even have words for this myself, 

this that they call spiritual awakening?

This seems to be all there is now, everywhere at all times.

There is a lucidity even on cloudy days.

Even as the stress rises and flows through my body,

There is lucidity.

The maiden and the mother have been brought along by this river of life.

The thickening, the widening in my body today shows the birth of the crone.

I want to write about spontaneous painting.

I really do

And there is such passion whirling around the etheric membranes,

My inner galaxy……

But

And 

And But, these are telling words on their own…..

I feel a steadiness, an awe, when I am painting spontaneously with tempera paint. With the soft brushes.

 I wanted them since two years, but the oil paint didn’t want them. 

The oil paint loves her knife. It is the knife that allows her to spontaneously paint with oil. 

That is the freedom I seek, and the path I see unfolding is with women, maybe someday men, painting from the heart. 
It is just so simple an offering, such an open, inviting portal.

A white piece of paper and color and water.

Start with a brush but who knows what will be called upon to express the inexpressible?

When I was 19

She saw white paper

She said don't marry that guy

She said hold on like a bulldog.

I am here to find words to describe spontaneous painting, process painting. 

Fred says it is Zen.

It is zen-like, so open, without judgement, such a flow, grasping nothing, no attachment, no held interpretations.

 It is prayer. Without a goal. More like gratitude.

My desire is pushing, lighting me through this mud.

I am the lotus.

Can I focus on anything but the light?

The light takes forms

And the forms vanish

Again and again.

The Sun is calling the Moon.

I am relieved,

Sense cannot be made.

This is how it goes, it looks a bit scattered.

Moving from here to there and back again and on again.

You certainly do not have to follow this breadcrumb trail.

Oh, I can do it better, put it in order, yes, I can do that, too.

I am just warming up again.

I told her I would show up.

She will bring me to focus, and bring the fire

that brings me to the gifts I want to share.

She just did.

Lucidity is so erotic.